When Worlds Collide
by Rouxwulf
Summary: What if Josh had met Faith in that alley instead of Aidan? First real fic. No beta. Be nice please :)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N I've been working on this for a while. It's a crossover/AU between Being Human: US and BTVS. All of us who are familiar with Being Human: US know how Josh and Aidan meet. Josh gets attacked by a pack of vampires and Aidan intervenes before they beat him to death. Well, what if instead of Aidan, it was Faith._

_BTVS Pre-Req: For any readers who aren't familiar with the Buffyverse or for those of you who need a refresher; here's the gist about Faith: Faith is a vampire slayer with a dark past. At the end of the show thanks to a scythe and some major magic mojo every potential slayer is given the gift of the slayer. So, instead of there being only one; there are many. The ending of the show implies that the next mission of the Scooby gang is to find all the slayers. After the series ended there were some comics that came out and I have taken some minor details from those as well. That is what Faith is doing in Boston she is in charge of finding the slayers in New England._

DISCLAIMER: I **do not** own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Being Human: US. I have written this story just for fun and to tribute some awesome television.

Reviews are appreciated, but lurkers are okay as well.

It was another average night for three restless vampires. Marcus was accompanied by two lackeys: a large man whose name he didn't know and Shaun, a sleazy brit whose job was to be a liaison for the London family. There was talk that Bishop (along with some other unknown parties in Bristol and London) wanted to go public. Marcus he was eager to find out as much as he could, so that when the time came he would be right at his side. But until then he had one more player to kick off the board. Aidan. Bishop's perfect little soldier and the proverbial thorn in his side. Aidan was Bishop's current top advisor, and the reason why they were waiting in this greasy spoon diner.

"When is Aidan coming? I'm starting to get bored," Shaun grumbled, he hated that he had been dragged all the way across the Atlantic just to help out their American counterparts.

Marcus glared at Shaun, annoyed by his incessant complaining "Yeah, if I have to drink one more cup of this sodding coffee I'm going to start feeding right now, I don't care who sees me." He took another gulp of the oily coffee and grimaced. "I don't think even humans could stomach this stuff, you know what I mean?" He looked to the big spiky haired vampire opposite him.

The big vampire stared into his coffee and was silent, as usual. Not that he needed to use words to get what he wanted. The man was built like a tank.

"You don't say much do you?" Shaun leaned back with an amused grin on his face. "That is why I like you, you know?"

Marcus flipped his phone open. "Be quiet," he snarled. "I just got a text from Aidan; Bishop wants us back."

Shaun snatched his leather gloves off the table and roughly slid his hands inside them. "You mean to tell me that we have waited here for an hour and a half, just to rendezvous elsewhere?"

Marcus rolled his eyes and tried to tune out Shaun's ranting. He snapped his fingers and motioned to the guy behind the counter to bring the check.

"You Americans are so unorgan—," He stopped mid-rant as he realized that Marcus wasn't listening to him anymore. At that moment all the vampires simultaneously picked up on a faint pungent aroma that they recognized as a scent that was distinctly werewolf. The wicked grin on Marcus' face widened and his eyes darkened momentarily… _Well, well, well what do we have here? _Without saying a word the other two knew what he was thinking. The three nodded to each other in agreement and glared the young man down. He was clearing the table next to them; he moved slowly, like he was weighted down by sadness and resignation. He picked up the glass and carefully stacked the dirty plates onto each other, lost in thought.

_I keep to myself for the most part. The last thing I want is for anyone to notice me. The way I see it, the only solution is to keep going through the motions, because it is really the only way I can function since that horrifying night when I lost everything that made me human. I try to analyze what happens to me every month as scientifically as I can, even though I know, deep down, that clinical detachment will not work for this. Before I was attacked, all I had to worry about was being the perfect student, son, and soon to be husband. I would give anything to take that night back. Now I'm stuck with this, this infection that makes my body change from a man to a monster every month. When it happens I feel the individual fibers of my muscles expand and contract. My heart pounding furiously as it struggles to pump blood throughout my body. My endocrine system expels surges of hormones and chemicals to help my body deal with the trauma. I experience liver, kidney, and heart failure almost simultaneously, but I don't die. I should die. Every time it happens I want to die, but no, somehow I still survive. All the while my bones break and shift and then I become something unnatural, something inhuman. It's been five months since I first transfor– since the incident, five months since I had to leave everything I ever cared about in my life. This wasn't supposed to happen. I should be at MIT, not working in this crappy diner, busing this crappy table. He placed the last plate into the bin and sighed. Who am I kidding? I deserve this because I am a monster; sometimes I am overwhelmed by the enormity of my self-loathing._

On his way back to the food prep area he got the feeling that he was being watched. He turned and saw the three men he just served glaring at him. Every instinct told him that those three men meant him harm. However, he didn't want them to know his suspicions, and hoped that the expression on his face didn't betray the panic and terror he felt inside. He made his way to the food prep area and did his best to try and look busy. He wiped down the counters carefully avoiding their gaze.

After a few minutes he snuck a glance toward the front, and breathed an internal sigh of relief that they were on their way out. However, his relief was short lived as he noticed that the tall bearded man had his beady rat eyes levelled on him, a smug predatory grin on his face. He glanced down and continued to wipe the already pristine counter just to avoid the tall man's gaze.

An hour later his shift ended and he grabbed the trash and made his way to the back door. He stood in the doorway momentarily and peered up and down the alley to make sure the coast was clear. After he dropped the bags into the bin he turned toward the street to leave.

"Well look what we've got here. Woof woof little doggie." He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he slowly turned around to see the tall, slender man from the restaurant walk out of the shadows with a wicked grin on his face. It was like something out of a b-horror movie.

"Wha- What are you talking about?" he was stunned and bewildered that he not only had enough nerve to get the question out, but also the fact that the man seemed to know what he was.

"N- no, you've made a mistake," he immediately began to back away from the man, continuing to feign ignorance hoping it would prevent the situation from escalating, but he knew that he couldn't reason with bullies; it had never worked in the past. He turned and ran towards the street, but was accosted by another man in a long overcoat wearing black leather gloves. The man's stance was defiant; his eyes alight with sadistic glee.  
"Stay a while mate," Shaun sneered in a false lighthearted tone while he pushed him back towards the tall bearded vampire who Josh surmised was the ringleader of his tormentors.

His eyes darted to the back door of the kitchen, which was still slightly ajar. He opened his mouth to call out for help, but was silenced when he was violently pushed back against the wall. The force of it left him breathless and dazed. When his vision cleared he saw that he was held in place by a giant tank of a man. The man's large hand wrapped around his throat holding him in place. He clawed at the man's wrist trying to push him away but to no avail.

"No, no" he choked while Tank brought his other hand up and effortlessly pried his fingers off of his wrist, pinning his arm to the wall. At some point, he wasn't sure when, Shaun was on his left side pinning the other arm to the wall as well. The two vampires held him in place while Marcus pulled his arm back; his hand closed in a fist. He tightened his jaw in anticipation seconds before the vampire's fist collided with his face. It was like getting hit with a brick. Tank pulled him away from the wall and threw him toward the ground. Still dazed, he stumbled awkwardly and desperately tried to make his body cooperate enough to get away.

Marcus sees him limping away and grabs the collar of his vest pulling him back. "Where do you think you're going?" he says. They laugh and mock him as he twists and tries to escape, "Aw, he thinks he can get away." He hears the British one jeer.

He unzips his vest, slides out of it, and runs as quickly as he can. He barely makes it a yard or two before he collides into Tank. He gasps as he stares into the vampire's black soulless eyes, and is horrified to see that the man has also grown long and sharp fangs. He turns around and the other two men look the same. The vampires circled in closer at an impossibly fast rate. He feels helpless and that every motion he makes is frustratingly slow. The three vampires move in a blur until they are within arm's reach of him.

Once again he tries to maneuver around them seeking the safety of the street. Tank blocks his way, shoving him into Shaun, and then Marcus. It was like this for a few minutes and he until Tank throws him to the ground. He laid on the frozen ground; his mouth was open breathing in the cold air along with tiny specks of powdery snow. His eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in a pained expression. The cold felt good against his throbbing jaw and for a few blissful seconds he was left alone. But he knew it wouldn't last because he could dimly hear the sound of their boots crunching in the snow getting louder with each step they took. Marcus grabs him by the back of his neck pulling him up and murmurs in his ear, "Just so we're clear, pup. You are meant to be on the ground, you are beneath us." Josh had no idea what he was talking about; he can barely concentrate on breathing let alone try to process a supernatural hierarchy lesson from a vampire with a superiority complex. Marcus pushes his face into the snow. "Come on guys now let's _really_ have some fun."

Moments later he feels their feet in his gut and back with brutal force. He quickly realizes what is happening and tries to curl his legs up to protect his torso, but they are too quick. His body is screaming at him in agony while the vampires continued to beat and kick him. His eyes stayed open, but he wasn't seeing the graffiti ridden brick wall on the other side of the alleyway. He had retreated into his mind to escape the pain. It was the same place he'd go when his parents would passive-aggressively fight at the dinner table. He gasped and cried out as he felt another kick in his stomach that took the breath out of him. _Please stop_ he desperately thought. _Please just let it be over._

He was ripped out of his reprieve and screamed as he felt his arms being violently wretched over his head. Tank had grabbed his wrists and was dragging him further back into the alley. He laid curled on his side for a moment, staring blankly ahead as blood and saliva slipped past his lips. He could vaguely hear his attackers laughing like a bunch of idiotic frat boys, reveling in the torture they were inflicting on him.

_Go!_ He told himself. _You've got to keep moving._ He dug his fingertips into the hardened snow and tried to drag himself away but, they were there. "No!" he cried out as they grabbed him by his ankles pulling him back to danger. In one swift and seamless motion Tank flipped him onto his back. His breath froze in his throat as he felt Tank's hands on his hips. He didn't want to think about what they were planning on doing next and he fought them with everything he had. He clenched his hands into fists and swung his arms around aimlessly, inadvertently hitting Marcus square in the nose.

"Hold him!" Marcus shouted with one hand clasped around his bleeding nose.

His breathing quickened "No, no, no" he hoarsely cried out as the British vampire grabbed a hold of both of his wrists and managed to cross them over and brought them down hard on his chest.

"Ahhuhhh!" He screamed in agony as the force aggravated his already injured ribs and bruised chest. He continued to squirm underneath Shaun's grip as Marcus spoke "I know what you're thinking pup and I can assure you that is the last thing we want from you."

He clenched his eyes shut, his chest heaving as he hoarsely cried out "What do you want!?" Marcus didn't answer, he just grinned devilishly and stepped aside as Tank flipped him over onto his stomach. He lay on his stomach expecting the worst. He felt their hands roughly pull his shirt over his head and gasped as his bare back was exposed to the cold Boston air. The cold, wintry air stung on his bruised back as the three monsters pelted him with snow. He writhed on the ground desperately trying to dodge the barrage of ice and snow that the vampires were raining down on him with terrible force and furious speed. His arms were trapped in his shirt and he couldn't see a thing. But he could still hear their laughter and the muffled words of their taunting, and it was then that it occurred to him that this was it; this was how he was going to die. He was going to be beaten to death in an alley.


	2. Chapter 2

Like A Lady

Faith Lehane stepped out of Roscoe's, the local bar, and lit a cigarette. She inhaled and slowly blew out a steady stream of smoke as she slid on her short black leather jacket. She was feeling restless tonight and thought she could let off some steam at Roscoe's, but it didn't really work. She figured she might as well patrol. As she walked down the street she passed a group of rowdy hooligans who wolf-whistled and shouted as she walked by. One grabbed his crotch and shouted "Hey baby, come back and have the ride of your life." She took another drag from her cigarette and rolled her eyes, ignoring them and continued walking. A few years ago her reaction would have been completely different; she would have either A. aggressively flirted back or, B. emasculated them, depending on what her mood was at the given time. After everything that she had been though from her messed up childhood, and her inevitable turn to the dark side in Sunnydale; betraying Buffy and her friends. To her rehabilitation in L.A. with Angel; where she learned that she could change and that she could actually use her power for good, the way her power was meant to be used. Most importantly it was Angel's belief in her that restored her belief in herself.

She spent years away from home and vowed that she would never return. Boston held too many bad memories for her, but she had a job to do. Word was that there was another rogue slayer in town and she was assigned to be the first point of contact because Giles was held up in England. After the disaster of her failed assassination attempt of Gigi (the socialite rogue slayer) she and Giles formed a pact that they would dedicate themselves to rehabilitating rogue slayers. So far, patrol was turning out to be a total waste of time. She'd been so lost in thought that she didn't even realize that she was already two blocks away from the apartment Giles set up for their base of operations while in Boston, and figured it was best to call it a night. She stopped in front of a 24 hour diner to fix a strap on one of her leather boots when she heard a scream echo down the alley. She turned the corner to see three men beating on another man on the ground. _Looks like I'm going to get some action tonight after all._ Eager for a chance to let off some steam she stealthily made her way to the fight.

Josh had managed to turn over onto his side, and tried to curl up for protection against the onslaught snow and ice, and abuse. For a brief moment the assault stopped and he could hear the muffled voices of his attackers. It sounded like they were arguing with someone. He tried to pull his shirt from his face so he could see what was going on. He groaned as he felt a boot on his hip, pushing him to the ground. At that point he didn't dare move.

The three vamps were finished playing so it was back to business and the first order of business was to dispose of this mutt. Marcus pulled his arm back ready to deliver a deadly blow to Josh's head. If it didn't kill him, then it would at least cause enough damage that he would never be the same again. Marcus thought about that for a moment and chuckled. Can you imagine? A brain damaged werewolf? He briefly considered making it happen. We could take him back to participate in the dog fights. He'd make a great bait dog. Last minute he decided against it. Nah, it'd be too much work. Fist raised he was about to smash-in the man's skull when his keen hearing picked up on the infamous sound of slow clapping.

"Wow, I just gotta say that it is super impressive to see that Boston's vampires have really stepped up their game." The three vampires looked up, and instantly sheathed their fangs, and put on their human disguise. They turned and saw a brunette with an amused grin on her face.

Marcus snuck a glance at Tank and Shaun before stepping forward. "Why don't you mind your own business, you nosey bitch," Marcus growled.

Faith gave out a low whistle, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she spoke. "Well, I've got to give props where props are due, I mean three against one." She motioned to the man on the ground.

"Two for the price of one," Shaun taunted as he stalked closer to Faith, "I'll be right with you dear," He said as he delivered another kick to Josh's stomach.

"Three against one, I'm not loving those odds." Faith said as the three black eyed vampires circled around her.

She looked from Marcus to Shaun, and then to the man on the ground. His face was covered by his shirt which was pulled up over his head and for a split second she feared that she was too late and that the man was already dead. But she quickly realized he wasn't as she saw his stomach expand and contrast with each shaky breath he took.

Faith returned her attention to Shaun, "Hey baby, give us a hug." He hissed and unsheathed his fangs, his eyes black as midnight as he lunged forward and attacked her. She withdrew a stake that she kept in the inner pocket of her leather jacket. Then swiftly delivered a roundhouse kick to the Shaun's jaw, knocking him to the ground where she promptly staked him into dust. Just as Shaun was disintegrating Tank grabbed her from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist while Marcus rushed towards them. Faith leaned back against Tank using him as leverage and kicked Marcus into the wall. He scrambled up and looked for a way to escape. He spied a chain link fence at the end of the alley. He ran towards it, and scaled it in seconds. Someone needs to tell Bishop what happened and he figured that he was the best person to do that. Faith elbowed Tank in the face and he collapsed backwards, momentarily stunned. Faith took that opportunity to stake him in the back.

She was disappointed that one of the vamps got away. She was about to hop the fence and chase him down when she heard the injured man behind her gasping and moaning in pain. _I can't shake the feeling that I should stay and help him. Angel's influence I guess. I've never been a 'shoulder to cry on' kind of girl but I guess there's a first time for everything._

For a moment nothing happened. He was gasping for breath, trying to get air into his lungs. His entire body tightening as he prepared himself for another assault. But it never came. Beyond the sound of his heart pounding in his ears he could hear sounds of a struggle. He tried to stay as still and quiet as he could, but his lungs demanded air and he could not control the sound of his ragged gasps. He was in tremendous pain, but he knew that if he didn't take advantage of the vampire's momentary distraction he would die in this alley. He struggled to pull his shirt back down to remove the layers from his face, but his shoulders and sides were throbbing. He stopped moving as he caught the sound of snow crunching underneath a solitary pair of boots. He felt someone's hands on his arms and in his panic he flinched and tried to maneuver himself away from the grasp of the person touching him.

Faith crouched down next to the man on the ground. It looked like the vamps really did a number on him. She had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing how sadistic predators think. Faith knew about torture much to her everlasting shame; she had firsthand knowledge of it.

_"Come on Wesley," She crouched in front of Wesley who was gagged and bound to the chair. She roughly grabbed his jaw "Where's that stiff upper lip?" She said, her voice with a slight lilt to mockingly impersonate his upper class British accent. He gazed at her wearily and… He was exhausted and had dark bruises all over his face. "We've only done 1 of the 5 basic torture groups. We've done blunt," she pressed her fist firmly to his forehead with her thumb extended counting as one "But that still leaves cold, hot, sharp, and loud," counting the others with the rest of her fingers, as if she was a salesperson explaining the options to a customer. "Have a preference?" she asked as she seductively slid her hands up and down his lap. _

She shook her head trying to stop the painful memory, and focused her attention on the man on the ground. Someone she _could_ help. She leaned down to try and help to him lower his shirt. He skittered back, and flinched once more. She stood up and decided to give him some space to work his way out on his own because he was certainly not going to be particularly trusting of anyone right now.

He managed to turn onto his stomach and was on his knees hunched over as he finally managed to lower his shirt past his stomach. In what seemed like eternity he opened his eyes and saw a pair of black boots.

"You okay?" Faith silently scolded herself. Her question came out harsher than she intended.

Josh raised his eyes and saw a dark haired woman staring down at him. Her facial expression was stern, but her brown eyes were soft and expressed concern.

Josh glanced at the piles of dust that surrounded the woman. "Th- They were va—vampires." His voice cracked slightly as a result of exhaustion, fear, and pain.

"Hm," She nodded in agreement. "Looks like they really banged you up." She said as she extended a hand to help him up. She was trying to act nonchalant but, if she was perfectly honest with herself, she felt very uncomfortable dealing with post slayage baggage: a.k.a. victim interaction. She used to have a very basic routine for patrol: slay, eat, bang, and shower. If this guy wasn't hurt so bad she might have attempted to re-visit that routine, because he sort of hot in a nerdy kind of way.

"Do you know why they attacked you?" she extended her hand toward him to help him up.

Josh shook his head and sighed. "You wouldn't understand," He ignored her hand and closed his eyes in pain wincing as he collapsed forward falling on his hands as he clutched the blue beanie he lost in the fight. He struggled to gather the rest of his clothes.

Faith withdrew her hand and shrugged "They're vampires; it's what they do." She crouched down and reached for his vest.

"How were you able to fight them all?" He was having a hard time concentrating on what she was saying.

"I'm a slayer, it's what I do." Faith held his vest in front of him and patiently waited for him to take it.

Josh raised an eyebrow "You kill vampires?" He tentatively grasped for his vest.

"It's my job. Well, my calling," She paused in thought for a moment, "actually it's both."

"Calling?" He didn't know what to think of that, in fact he wasn't able to focus on really much of anything at the moment "Oh, okay," he said absently as he collapsed onto Faith.

She barely managed to catch him as he fell forward nearly knocking her over as well. "Whoa, take it easy, you're not exactly in the best shape right now."

"I'm fine," he mumbled dazedly. Faith believed she heard a bit of defiance in his reply.

"I think we need to get you to the hospital, come on, if Boston is still the way I remember it then there is one really close to here"

"No!" he growled.

She didn't feel comfortable just abandoning him. That vampire who got away could track him down and the last thing she wanted was to have another person's blood on her hands. "Do you have anyone you can call that can pick you up?"

He closed his eyes and let out a sad chuckle. He shook his head "No, I don't have anyone." He swayed once again and held his arms out to try and balance himself but, Faith grabbed him and said "Okay. I _really_ think we need to get you to a hospital."

"No!" He shouted nearly falling again, "I can't go to the hospital."

"Look, you've been badly hurt."

He winced as he tried to take a deep breath "No, no you don't understand."

"Okay, okay," she finally conceded because she knew that he wouldn't change his mind. "I don't live too far from here; do you think you can walk?"


End file.
